Approaching Ungodly Storms of Winter

geese

Long hoarse cries of screeching gulls
Sweep on against blue cloudless sky.
Flocks of great formations of geese
Flee from winter’s approaching ungodly storms,
Moving ever to the south to warmer water gulfs.

In the silence of the morning, I hear glass shattering.
Laughter of children stops as battle downs upon their heads.
On and on death comes, not in silence, but fire breathing guns
Repeating shots— rifle blazing over and over and over…..
Cold methodical hunt for human life,
Teacher’s hearts blazing as they vow to defend
Their children to the death.  And death does come.

There should not be admission of death in school.
Din of war belongs on battlefields with captains leading,
Squadrons marshaled, equipment ready and trained.
Here, Future stopped weaving her endless web,
Replaced with blood stained dresses and jeans.
There was no time for goodbye kisses.
Not now, and never ever again.

Now white coffins stand row upon row.
Useless prayers and sprinkling of holy water.
But where do we go to escape the sound of breaking glass?
Can we even imagine a world
In which such violence is inconceivable?
If so, will you work to make it so?

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